Though the Rifts
by JKatrin
Summary: The Rifts can take you many places--as a young techo-wizard from earth yet-to-be finds out in an earth that never was. Rated T for occasional language and sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Yet another crossover fic! Sorry, but I just love the "stranger in a strange land theme." All references to the Exalted setting belong to White Wolf publishing, while the Rifts references are courtesy of Kevin Simbaeda and Palladium Games. The specific characters are largely the inventions of my gaming group. Thanks to them for letting me borrow them--again._

**Arrival**

Deos Talon stood at the heart of the demesnes he hoped to raise into a manse, puzzled and frustrated. Over the last few days, the Essence of the dragon lines running through the place had been very unpredictable, surging and then ebbing. His sifu Virtuous Guardian had been as puzzled as he, and neither one could find a cause. Now Guardian was tracing some of the lines, hoping to find a source of such disturbance, as well as checking other dragon lines to discover whether or not they were similarly affected, while Talon tried to ameliorate the damage done to his demesnes.

Attuned as he was, he sensed the next surge of energy. It made his skin prickle; he automatically used the Incomparable Sorcerer's Sight and was nearly blinded by the Essence that surged through the dragon lines. Suddenly, a crackling line of energy appeared near the center of his demesnes, visible even to his mortal senses. It widened into a crack, a rent in the very fabric of Creation. Talon stared; he had never seen anything quite like it before. Then he realized that there was something on the other side of the angry roiling mist, and had just enough time to duck as a huge beast came hurtling through the portal, roaring angrily.

The strange portal closed, healing itself, as the strange beast slid to a halt several yards away, gave a final coughing roar, and died. With his sorcerer's sight, Talon could see the Essence woven through it, and realized that it wasn't alive at all, but some sort of machine. The Essence ebbed away as he watched, and then he saw that there was something—make that some_one_—alive and trapped beneath it.

Hurrying over, he approached the still-smoking machine, coughing as the stench of scorched cloth, cordite, and fresh blood assaulted his nose. Gingerly he grabbed the thing and managed to wrestle it away, revealing a young woman lying limp on the grass. Long dark hair obscured her face, and a long coat or jacket made of something like thunder lizard hide enveloped her body. The tough leather was scored and pierced in several places. Many of the holes were charred at the edges, and when Talon knelt and gently turned her over he saw that much of blood that stained the coat was hers. But there was a faint pulse at her throat, and Talon settled himself on the grass to begin the first of his healing charms.

Deanna McIssac—also known as "Tinkerbell"—woke slowly from dreams of fire and blood into a reality of sun-washed forest. Her head was fuzzy, but otherwise she felt good—pretty damn good for someone who'd managed to get herself shot up by a bunch of Deadboys.

_Cool,_ she thought. _Looks like they managed to find me some __**good**__ drugs_.

Rolling over carefully, she blinked at the trees that surrounded her. Not just trees—really big, old trees. She didn't recognize the species—well, she wasn't exactly the outdoorsy type—but they didn't look quite like anything she'd ever seen. The grass was thick and lush despite the shade, and the sunlight filtered through a green canopy gave the whole place a weird ethereal appearance.

Her heart sank as she looked for her companions. They were nowhere in sight, although there was a sort of campsite set up. But there was only one small, unfamiliar tent, and it looked like the place was set up more for long-term habitation than the one- or two-night sites Badger set up for them. And the blanket that covered her wasn't wool or cotton, but fur. Real, honest-to-god _fur_, sort of like a tiger hide except that it was rich green with deep brown stripes. Cautiously, she peeked beneath the fur and blushed when she realized she was naked.

Naked, but apparently unmolested. In fact, the wounds she'd picked up in that skirmish with the CS were gone without so much a scar. So, either she'd been unconscious for quite some time…

Or there was some pretty big mojo working here.

As she looked around uncertainly, the tent flap rustled. Reflexively Deanna clutched the fur to her chest as a slender blond man in a long scarlet cloak stepped out of the tent. He looked at Deanna and smiled, such a warm friendly smile that Deanna found herself smiling back. He turned back to the tent for a moment and said something Deanna couldn't understand, then walked the few steps to where she sat. The girl's mouth watered and her stomach rumbled as she realized he held a steaming bowl in his hand. The blond man sat near her, fastidiously drawing his cloak around his knees, and handed her the bowl. She took it without thinking—it was full of some kind of stew that steamed gently and smelled like glory. There was no spoon, just a pair of short sticks, but she managed to shovel chunks of meat and vegetables into her mouth without dropping too much of it. Before she realized it, she was tilting the bowl to drink the last savory drops of broth.

The blond man watched her the whole time, chuckling softly as she slurped the last of the stew. This close, Deanna realized that he was absurdly handsome, and blushed again under his close scrutiny. As he took the empty bowl from her, the tent rustled again, and this time a portly fellow in green stepped out.

He looked older than the first man, with dark hair and a mustache streaked with gray. There was a comfortable, fatherly sort of air about him, and Deanna instinctively trusted him. The blond man said something that sounded amused, and the older man chuckled and approached Deanna. He knelt by the makeshift bed and took her chin in his hands, checking her eyes. Then he had her extend her arms, running his hands down their length, and then he reached beneath the fur to gently feel her ribs. It was little embarrassing, but much less intrusive than her last gyno exam, and he was evidently trying so hard to put her at ease that she couldn't be really offended. Finally he sat back and said something to the blond man who nodded and disappeared into the tent again. He reappeared a moment later with a pile of clothes. Deanna gave a cry of relief and joy when she recognized her duster lying right on top.

Salus Taran smiled at his lover as the girl began to pull on the clothes he had so carefully washed and mended.

"Wherever she came from, she certainly _acts_ human."

Talon nodded thoughtfully as he filled his pipe. "Yes, but there is something strange about her Essence," he said. "She is neither an Exalt, nor a god, nor one of the Fair Ones. Yet her Essence is stronger than any mortal's I've ever seen."

"Perhaps a thaumaturgist?" suggested Salus. "You have told me they wield a great deal more power than other mortals."

"Perhaps…" Talon considered the idea. "Now my trinket, tell me what _you _sense about her."

"Well, I haven't had much time…" Salus demurred.

Talon only chuckled. "You can evaluate a man in seconds," he said.

"True." Salus smiled. "Well, this is only my first impression, but…" He thought for a moment, watching the girl stand and pull on the coat. "She was nervous, but not really afraid. She was confused, but she didn't panic. I would say, she is fairly intelligent and adaptable. Any other conclusions will have to wait."

"Hmm." Talon puffed on his pipe. The girl had finished dressing now, and turned a slow circle, eyeing the trees with awe. She looked to Talon and Salus and spread her hands. For the first time since she had awakened, she looked lost.

She was _feeling_ lost. "Hey, guys," she called, "I don't suppose you know where my bike is, do you?"

The two consulted a moment longer, then the blond went back into the tent, returning with a familiar battered backpack and knapsack. He handed them to Deanna with another smile.

"My stuff!" Deanna whooped with glee and immediately sat down to check her inventory. Right on top was the roll of felt that cushioned her collection of gems and crystals. Below that was her TK-pistol and her flame sword, her digital recorder, her computer—though her face fell again when she pulled the 'puter out and found it smashed beyond repair. Goggles, sunglasses—those she slipped onto her face. Tool kit, Swiss-army knife, and the other assorted equipment and parts she used for her gadgets. A couple changes of clothing. Nothing was exactly where she'd left it, but nothing had been taken, either. Even her gems were all there—not that most of them were all that valuable except to someone like her.

There was a shout from somewhere in the forest. Deanna looked up, startled, but the older man put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he called back. A minute later, a third man walked into the little camp, wrestling her bike along.

"My bike!" Deanna ran to the machine. "Oh, baby, what happened to you?"

The bike was in bad shape. A quick glance showed that it was in need of some body work and a new tire. A closer inspection revealed that it also needed a tune-up and a serious lube job. The three men watched with amusement as she crooned over the machine, stroking it like a lover. Finally she stood up and sighed.

"Well," she said, "I don't know how I got here, but I'm probably not leaving on this thing." She looked over to where the men were standing. "And you don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"

The new arrival said something to his companions, and they laughed. Deanna didn't mind—the new guy was certainly easy the eyes. Not as smoothly handsome as the blond, he was big and brawny, with long black hair that shone with green highlights and an all-over tan that accentuated the muscles of his arms and chest. He wore what looked like a primitive breastplate of hide-covered steel, brown suede pants, and some kind of harness that suspended an axe—

—make that a really _BIG_ axe—

—on his back. A little apprehensively, Deanna approached the trio and held out her hand.

"Hi," she said. "Uh, I guess you guys picked me up and put me back together, so I guess I owe you one. I'm Deanna McIssac."

The blond stepped forward and took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he bowed extravagantly and lightly kissed her fingers.

"Salus Taran," he said, laying a hand on his chest. Then he gestured to the older man. "Deos Talon." And finally to the barbarian. "Grimnyr."

"Right. Salus, Deos, and Grimnyr."

The older man interrupted her with a wince and a gesture of negation. "Talon," he said firmly.

"Talon." He nodded his head and took her hand, shaking it once, firmly. Then Grimnyr stepped forward and clasped her forearm for a moment before pointing to her bike and asking a question.

"That? Oh, that's my bike. You know, I use it to get around and—" Suddenly aware of the uncomprehending stares of the others, she clapped a hand to her forehead. "Geez, where's my brain! Okay, hold on a minute…"

Deanna pulled her digital recorder out of her backpack. The techno-wizardry she practiced was less flexible than that of a traditional wizard in that she needed some kind of focus for her spells. So she touched the "on" button and whispered the words of the _tongues _spell.

Talon watched as the girl closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her lips moved, and a faint white glow waved gently around her. The glow brightened with each syllable, and bluish highlights appeared. _Earth Essence?_ he wondered. But no, it didn't have the distinctive "flavor" to his senses that elemental Essence did.

Deanna raised her head, and spied the glow. "Whoa…that's new," she said. She looked at the other three. "Did it work?"

"Did what work?" asked a startled Grimnyr.

Deanna grinned. "Cool! I guess it did." She looked from one man to the other. "So…which of you guys patched me up?"

Talon gave a little bow and puffed his pipe. "That would be me," he said. "Fortunately, I was quite near when you, er, arrived. I am Chosen of the Unconquered Sun, and one of the finest physicians in all of Creation."

Deanna blinked. "Uh…I'm not sure I understood all of that, but thanks. Y' know, you got some good mojo—even most spells leave scars."

Talon blinked in confusion, and Salus burst into a merry laugh. "I believe she was trying to give you a compliment, my love," he said. He turned back to Deanna. "You're welcome," he told her. "Though you really were very lucky, you know—Talon told me your injuries were quite severe. If he had not been there…" He let his words trail off, but Deanna got the picture. Instinctively she rubbed her side where that Deadboy had caught her full on. She'd known it was bad and had tried desperately to stay conscious, stay on the bike and keep moving, but she'd been filled with the certain knowledge that someone was going to have to take some bad news back to Mom.

"Well, thanks, anyway," she said.

"How did you get here?" asked Grimnyr suddenly.

"Through a Rift," she answered. Seeing the blank looks on their faces, she tried to explain. "Okay, you're a wizard, a magic user, right?" she asked Talon.

"I would say, sorcerer," he told her.

She nodded. "Okay, then you know how magic is everywhere, but it collects in some places, flows along certain paths."

Talon nodded. "Yes. We call them dragon lines."

"Dragon lines…hmm, has a nicer ring than 'ley-lines.' I'll have to remember that….Anyway, when two or more lines cross, it forms what we call a 'nexus.'"

Again Talon nodded. "Such places have great amounts of Essence. We typically build our great Manses there."

"Okay, you lost me with that bit, but yeah, there's usually a lot more power—Essence—there than other places. Well, a few hundred years ago, nobody paid a whole lot of attention to them until somebody, or several some bodies, used some kind of device or doomsday weapon that supercharged the ley-lines. The huge amounts of power literally ripped open holes in the space-time continuum. Gates to other places. Other dimensions, other worlds. _Most_ of them have sealed up—but the biggest ones haven't, and it's always possible to open new ones under the right circumstances. So me and my pals got in a skirmish with some CS Deadboys, and there were spells flying and a line-storm going on, and I guess when it opened I just wasn't paying attention, so…here I am."

There was pause, and it was Grimnyr who asked the question she hadn't wanted to think about. "Can you get back?"

The girl seemed to shrink into her coat. "I don't know," she said in a very small voice. "Probably not by myself. Even if I could make the rift open again, there's no guarantee it would lead back to my dimension." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "I guess my pals could hire a shifter or something to look for me, if they figure out what happened. But that's even assuming they survived. I guess…I guess I'm stuck here. For a while at least."

Salus and Talon exchanged glances of sympathy, and then Salus laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I am certain your friends will not give up on you," he said positively. "And you seem to be no mean sorcerer yourself. Surely, if they cannot find you, you will find your way to them."

Deanna brightened a little at those words. "Yeah—I guess there's nothing stopping me from trying. 'Course, I'm basically a mechanical engineer, but I've got a pretty decent background in the electronic and electrical stuff, and even some resonance engineering. If I can figure out what I need…and if I can get the parts…" Her voice trailed of as she muttered to herself. Salus interrupted her gently.

"Perhaps now is not the time. I'm afraid that, gracious as his hospitality is, Talon is not set up for long-term company. We will need to find you a better place to stay." He turned to Grimnyr. "Perhaps in Chanta?"

Grimnyr shrugged. "As long as she's not afraid of heights."

"How far away is that?" Deanna asked.

"Perhaps a week's travel," Salus told her.

"Oh." Anxiety colored her voice. "I was kind of hoping to stay closer—you know, in case they do come looking."

Salus turned to Talon. "Perhaps another tent could be pitched," he suggested.

Talon frowned thoughtfully as he emptied his pipe. "Perhaps," he said. "For a time. But the energies of an untamed demesnes often have unusual side effects on mortals."

Deanna shrugged. "Yeah, I know—weirdness happens on the nexuses. But I'd rather stay close if I can. And less weirdness seems to happen to wizards—maybe just because we're used to handling the overflow." She turned pleading eyes on Talon. "So can I stay here, _please_?"

Faced with such an artless appeal, Talon did the only thing he could. "Very well," he said. "But if you're in the way—or if I see any signs that my demesnes is harming you in any way—you'll have to find somewhere else to stay."

She nodded. "Fair enough."

A week later, Deanna had a pretty cozy set-up. Salus, with a flourish worthy of a stage magician, had produced a small tent of purple striped silk. It had taken three days to get rid of the heavy scent of sandalwood. When asked, Salus had simply said that he had frequently used it "when I was single." Then Talon had given a discrete cough, and Deanna had decided it was none of her business what he'd done in the tent. Talon had let her keep the fur, and between that and the survival blanket Badger had insisted she carry, she was quite cozy at night. Grimnyr came by every day or two with food. There was a small pool nearby that Talon had shown her. It was apparently spring-fed and would have been pure misery to bathe in, but small-scale fire-type spells served to warm it up nicely—not to mention the trouble they saved her getting her fire lit. Toting water to wash her clothes in was harder, but the small chores of living kept her mind off of her other problems.

Namely, that she wasn't getting anywhere with either the bike or the rift. Grimnyr had helped her bang most of the dents out of the bike, but nobody in this dimension seemed to have heard of either rubber tires or machine oil. When she'd asked for grease she had been offered a choice between vegetable oil and animal fat. And even if she had managed to get petroleum-based oil, without another tire she wasn't going anywhere.

The rift was an even more complicated matter. In theory, she could build a device that would open the rift, and keep it open for at least a few minutes. But if tires and oil were foreign concepts to these people, electronics was completely beyond them. _Mechanics_ they understood, to a point. But chips, circuits—even diodes and transistors were completely unheard of. They didn't even seem to have discovered the dry cell battery.

But she had some ideas about that. She had just come from her bath and was letting her hair dry by the small campfire, and she had found an unexpected treasure in her knapsack. In the very bottom, packed in a vacuum-sealed box, was a batch of her mother's sugar cookies. She munched happily as she doodled designs for water- and wind-wheels on the thick vellum Talon had given her in exchange for a couple of graphite sticks. Talon had been intrigued by the idea of an erasable writing medium. She thought he might be equally interested in a renewable power source for his manse. She realized that if she was going to be stuck here, she'd better figure out a way to make herself useful, instead of a burden.

_Wait 'til I show him the light bulb_, she chuckled.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked up expecting to see Grimnyr or Talon. She choked, spraying cookie crumbs across her plans when she saw the huge green-pelted saber-toothed cat that watched her from across the clearing, switching its tail lazily.

She froze instinctively, hoping it would just go away. Instead it stood up and stretched, then padded casually toward her.

"N-nice kitty," Deanna squeaked. Her eyes darted around the clearing, but there really wasn't anywhere to go. The tent wouldn't hold up against a single swipe of those massive claws, and even if she could climb a tree, she doubted that she could reach one before it caught her. And couldn't cats climb trees? As the great cat, which outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, approached, she scrambled for the words to the flying spell.

But whether it was because she was too nervous, or just because she couldn't find an appropriate focus, she remained firmly on the ground as the beast padded closer. It was close enough now for her to see the variegated golden green of its eyes, and to count the whiskers that flourished luxuriantly on its muzzle.

"Nice kitty," she gasped again, groping for the hilt of her flame sword. "Want a cookie?"

The huge feline sniffed the air in her direction, then stretched out its neck and with surprising delicacy nipped the cookie from her outstretched fingers. Deanna held her breath nervously as it swallowed the treat in one gulp. A low rumbling filled the clearing as it sat down on its haunches and licked its whiskers.

_Ohmigod_, she realized. _It's purring!_

Still holding her breath, she stretched out a shaking hand, ready to snatch it back at the first hint of aggression. The broad head was smooth and warm under her trembling fingers. The cat's purr grew louder under the diffident caress. Encouraged, Deanna released the breath she'd been holding and leaned forward to stroke its ears. It really was a beautiful animal. Its fur was deep green, with dark brown stripes—like the hide she'd been sleeping under, she realized.

A low chuckle startled her, and Deanna looked up to see Grimnyr's mate Virtuous Guardian standing there with part of an animal carcass. The woman's body was covered in a complicated pattern of scars and silver tattoos. Scarification made her face resemble a snake's, enhanced by the tiny sharp fangs that showed clearly in her mouth. Deanna had the vague impression that she was something like a Native American totem warrior, with powers derived from her connection with an animal spirit.

A little embarrassed without really knowing why, Deanna pulled her hand away. "I—he just showed up a minute ago," she explained. "I guess he's tame—is he yours?"

"Tame?" Virtuous Guardian raised an eyebrow at the word. "I should say not. Nor does he belong to me—or to anyone else. Here," she said, holding out the meat. "Grimnyr sends you part of his day's catch."

Deanna gingerly took the meat, keeping a wary eye on the cat still sitting not a foot away from her. "Thanks," she said. "I'll cook this up tonight." The cat's rumbling purr grew louder again, as if he approved. "Uh…you're not going to steal my dinner are you?" she asked the animal. "Because if you are, I'm not going to argue with you, but I might go vegan from now on."

The cat rose haughtily and ambled away across the clearing, giving Deanna ample opportunity to see that he was indeed male. Virtuous Guardian watched with a curious twist of her lips. It looked suspiciously like a smirk.

"What's so funny?" Deanna demanded.

Instead of answering, Guardian turned and quietly left the clearing.

"Thanks for nothing," Deanna grumped.

"Just what did you think you were doing?"

Virtuous Guardian spoke to the cat, but instead of the cat, a man now stood there. He was tall and brawny and roughly handsome, with thick green hair that flowed over bronze-tanned shoulders. His eyes were still distinctly feline, green slit-pupiled orbs flecked with gold, and a restless tail still twitched behind him. Whorls of silver decorated his body, similar but not identical to the ones that Virtuous Guardian displayed.

He smiled, showing strong white teeth. "Just examining the outlander for myself," he said. "Since it is my territory."

"_Was_ your territory," Virtuous Guardian reminded him. "Need I remind you that Talon defeated you?"

Fox Clever Hunter waved a hand, as if to negate Talon's claim. "He cheated."

"He tricked you," Guardian said acidly. "Not the same thing at all. And shame on you for allowing it."

Because she was right, and because although he enjoyed baiting his former lover he didn't want to cause her any real trouble, Hunter merely shrugged. "Anyway, I came to see her for myself."

"In disguise? She knows nothing of our ways and what we can do. Admit it—you were baiting Talon."

"Well, yes." Hunter grinned broadly at the thought. "But you have to admit—she is intriguing."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She offered me a cookie."

"A cookie." Virtuous Guardian stared at Hunter as if he'd handed her a live fish.

"Yes." His grin softened a little. "She was afraid—I could smell her fear—but she offered me a cookie."

"Brave."

"Yes. Pretty, too."

Exasperated, Virtuous Guardian rolled her eyes. "I should have known."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Again with the disclaimer. I own nothing except a few original characters. But this has been a highly entertaining story to write._

Fox Clever Hunter strode into the demesnes two days later. He wore his human shape, and was gratified to see the girl's eyes widen at the sight of him. She said something he couldn't understand, then pulled something out of her pocket and pushed part of it while muttering under her breath. There was a brief display of bluish Essence, and when she spoke again he understood her perfectly.

"Sorry," she said. "I wasn't expecting anybody today, so I hadn't cast the spell."

Intrigued, he stepped closer to examine the device. It looked like a small box, with a couple of flat buttons. There were a few symbols inscribed on it; curious, he wet his thumb and ran it over the marks. They didn't come off, but they didn't seem to be carved or engraved either.

"That's my digital recorder," she told him. "A hundred and one uses for the intrepid explorer. Who are you?"

He smiled at her, exposing predatory canines. "I am called Fox Clever Hunter," he said. "I have offered to help supply you with food, since I live closer to this demesnes than Grimnyr does."

"Oh." Nonplussed, Deanna held out her hand. "I'm Deanna."

"Yes." Hunter took her hand, but did not release it. "I have heard of the outland sorceress who has come to dwell in the Haltan forest."

"Right…" Deanna was feeling some definite butterflies. While everyone else she'd met so far was within the human norm, this fellow would almost certainly be classed as a D-Bee--or Dimensional Being--back home. Not that she had anything against D-Bees personally; in fact, there had been an elven scholar at the university who'd been endlessly patient with the thousand and one questions of a curious student. But she'd never had one look at her quite that way before, like she was appetizer or something. And she'd certainly never experienced such a visceral attraction for one as she was feeling now. She tried to tug her hand away and blushed when he only tightened his grip.

"Hey, I need that hand," she said, scowling.

His smile only grew broader. "For what?" he asked.

Deanna's lips tightened. She might be god-knows how many dimensions from home, but she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone treat her like that. No matter how attractive he was. Her other hand reached for the hilt of her sword where it hung at her side.

"I said, let go!" she commanded, and thumbed the trigger.

Hunter jumped backwards and released the girl's hand as the crackling flame sprang up. New respect dawned in his eyes as she brandished the magical sword like a true warrior. Her jaw was set, and her brown eyes were hard. From a slightly safer distance, he gave slight bow.

"My apologies," he said quietly. "I believe I underestimated you."

Mollified, Deanna relaxed a bit, though she did not put the blade away yet. "Yeah, well, don't you forget it," she sniffed. "I don't mind you hanging around if you want to, but if you invade my personal space again I'll lop an arm off."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said. Privately, he wasn't certain she could do any such thing—but she was both a sorcerer and an outlander and therefore an unknown quantity. Better not to push it—at least until he'd had the opportunity to study what she was capable of.

_And by then, I might change her mind_, he thought.

He sank to the ground, folding his legs. The easy posture disarmed her, and she hesitated, then thumbed the stud again and the fiery blade disappeared. Hunter noted that she clipped the hilt to her belt as she sat, within easy reach.

"That is a very impressive weapon," he said. "What makes it do that?"

Now Deanna smiled, the infectious grin that Salus found so charming. "Well, it's just a basic _fireball_ spell focused through a pair of red zircons." She pulled it off of her belt and showed him how the hilt had two red gems set inside it, connected by a loop of thin gold wire. "My own energy—what you call Essence—powers it." She demonstrated, pointing the blade away from them both, and again the tongue of flame sprang into life. "Anybody who can use magic or psionics can use one of these." A wistful look crossed her face. "Now, if I had some emeralds, I could make a sheath that would let me store enough energy to trigger the blade when it was drawn, without relying on my own reserves."

"Emeralds? Why emeralds?"

"Well, emeralds are unique, so far as we know, because they can actually store magic energy. Other gems and crystals act as focuses for certain spells or types of spells, but they can only direct the energy, not store it. Basically, I'd just line the sheath with emeralds and set up the spells so it would draw on the ambient energy to power the sword."

"Hmm." Fox Clever Hunter thought about that for a moment. "If you can make an emerald sheath that draws on peripheral Essence, couldn't you build the emeralds into the sword so that it would always power itself?"

"Hey…" Deanna blinked and stared into the distance as new possibilities suddenly unfolded. "Hey, yeah, I probably could. And not just a sword. Small energy weapons…of course, you'd run out quick in a firefight and then it's back to your own P.P.E., but still…"

Hunter chuckled to himself as she muttered under her breath, clearly forgetting he was even there. It seemed sorcerers were the same no matter where they were from.

Then she jerked back to the here-and-now, focusing on him with a slight frown. "So how come you care, anyway?" she asked. "Are you a wizard, too?"

"Me? No. I have only the natural charms Luna grants to all of her warriors." A look of pride crossed his face. "Though I am one of Luna's mightiest Chosen."

Deanna cocked her head. "Talon said he was chosen, too. Is that the same thing?"

Hunter growled his distaste for the physician. "Not at all," he said. "The City Man was Chosen by Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun. I was Chosen by Luna, the Many-faced Moon."

"Right…" Deanna sat back and wrapped her arms around her knees. "This must seem like a really ignorant question, but remember, I'm from out of town. That whole sun/moon bit--are we talking the actual sun and moon? Or is there a metaphor I'm missing somewhere?"

Now Fox Clever Hunter felt a touch uneasy as he stared at her. For the first time, he had an inkling of just how alien she was. "Both," he said. "And neither, I suppose." His forehead creased as he sought to explain what was, for him, simply a fact of existence.

"Everything in Creation has a spirit associated with," he said. "Natural features such as trees, rocks and rivers--phenomena like the weather--even abstract or amorphous concepts like emotions. We call these spirits, gods."

"Individual gods are not very powerful. They don't have to be. The dryad of that tree, for instance"--he indicated the tree Deanna leaned against--"is concerned with that tree, and _only _that tree. But the forest has a god as well, and his power would be greater in proportion."

Deanna leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand, as Hunter warmed to his subject.

"The greater gods are those with vast and sweeping concerns. The greatest and most powerful are called the Incarnae, and they oversee heaven and earth. In order to better serve their concerns, they created the Exalted by investing a shard of their divine Essence into worthy mortals."

Now Deanna felt a little thrill of fear. "Wait a minute," she said. "'Invested you with her Essence?' What does that mean, exactly?"

Hunter cocked his head, catching the sudden smell of her fear. "When Luna, or Sol, or the Maidens exalt a mortal, they place a shard of their own divine Essence into that mortal. When the host dies, slain in combat or in the fullness of time, that divine shard is reinvested in another mortal of the god's choosing."

The girl sprang to her feet and began to pace slowly away from him. Her arms were crossed over her stomach, and her head was bowed. Her body practically hummed with the tension flowing through it. "So…your powers don't really come from yourselves. You get them from something more powerful."

Hunter frowned. "The shard make it possible for us to harness Essence, to learn charms and, if we desire, sorcery. Without it—" He shrugged. "Well, there is a form of mortal thaumaturgy, but it is vastly inferior to the magic of the Exalted."

"Look, this might all be just fine with you, but I need to think a little. Not that you guys have been anything but nice so far, but…could you just go away for a while? Please?"

Puzzled by her distress, Fox Clever Hunter rose slowly to his feet. "If you want me to, I will," he told her. "I'll be back in a few days, with more food for you."

Deanna watched him go, aware that she was being unfair, but unable to completely discard the prejudices of a lifetime.

When Salus waltzed into camp the next day at twilight, he found Deanna half hidden beneath her bike. Various metallic noises and what sounded like soft muttered curses echoed from beneath the machine. Salus waited a moment, then leaned over and tapped her knee gently.

There was a metallic scrape, and a louder curse, and then Deanna slid out from beneath the bike, looking highly annoyed. Seeing Salus, she sighed and reached for the digital recorder, activating the _tongues_ spell, and sat up. Blood ran from a long scratch over her knuckles, and she wrapped the hand in a dirty rag. Salus winced and pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket.

"Please use this," he said. "One does not live with Creation's finest physician without learning a few things about hygiene."

She took the handkerchief, throwing him an unexpectedly hostile look. Salus wondered if perhaps she had learned what he did for a living and disapproved. He waited patiently, sensing the turmoil she was in. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind.

"Salus," she asked, "Are _you_ Exalted?"

The question took him completely by surprise. "Why, no," he said. He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Should I be?"

"Well, no, I mean…look, can I ask you a few things? I mean, privately."

Salus became serious, sensing the depth of her unease. "I promise, my dear, you may ask me anything you like, and I will keep your confidence."

She believed him, though she wasn't quite sure why. "Ok…so what do you know about Exalts? I mean, what they can do, where their powers come from. I mean, it's obvious you and Talon are, well, together, so you seem like the logical one to ask."

Salus looked at her quietly for a moment. "Something is bothering you, I can tell," he said finally. "Perhaps you'd better be more specific."

Her face grew red, and she stared at her injured hand. "Fox Clever Hunter was here," she said. "He told me a little about how the Exalted get their powers, and…it's a little creepy." Her eyes were anxious as she finally looked up at Salus. "The only thing we have that's even close are vampires, and I think the Splugorth witches. You've all been really great, but…I guess I just need to know that nobody's gonna try to drink my blood in the middle of the night, or try to trick me into interdimensional slavery."

Well, that was certainly not what he'd expected to hear. Salus sat back and regarded the girl speculatively, thinking of the Broken Lord, now Unbroken, and the habits of the Fair Folk. "Well, there are those in the world who would do those things," he told her. "But not Talon, nor any of his Circle, though for thousands of years the Immaculate Order spread the lie that the Exalted were demonic in origin, rather than divine." Now Salus smiled, a beatific smile that enhanced his angelic features. "But my parentage gives me certain powers as well, and I can swear to you on my name that neither Talon nor any of his Circle would ever do you any deliberate harm."

"Your parentage?" Now her wariness was replaced with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"My mother was a mortal woman," he said, "but my father was one of the Fair Folk."

The _tongues_ spell rendered the term "fairy" to Deanna's ears, and she blinked, then giggled. "A fairy?" Salus watched in bemusement as she tried desperately to control herself, before finally giving in to gales of laughter. "I-I'm sorry," she spluttered, "but that's just so—so funny!"

It wasn't funny to Salus at all, but his innate courtesy kept him from getting up and just leaving. The girl wasn't completely ignorant; as her laughter subsided, she noted his tight lips and grim expression.

"Okay…maybe not so funny," she gasped. "It's just the thought of something so tiny…" she snickered again, but stifled it as Salus frowned.

"Tiny?" he said acidly. "Perhaps that is how the Fair Folk dream of themselves in your world."

"Wait, are we talking about the same thing here?" she asked. "I mean, there are whole swaths of country taken over by fairies where I'm from, and they're kinda cute, if you can get past the really weird sense of humor. 'Bout six inches tall, usually with wings. That's what I was laughing about—sex with something six inches tall."

Now Salus relaxed a little. "It appears your spell isn't perfect," he said. "What we call the Fair Folk are beings from beyond Creation's borders, a realm of dreams and pure possibility. Most of them stay in their formless, chaotic realm, but a few, out of curiosity or some other emotion, come here, and are locked in one form. They prey on the dreams and emotions of humans, leaving them husks of themselves, with no more will than a plant. My mother was one such victim. Something about her caught my father's fancy, and he used her until he tired of her. For some reason, he chose not to completely drain her, instead selling her to the Guild when she was pregnant with me. I was born in a Guild slave caravan. My mother was sold when I was four, and I do not know what happened to her." He paused, collecting himself as old, old hurts rose to torment him. "Because my father fed on dreams, on emotions, his senses allowed him to find those he found the most appealing, and he passed some of those senses on to me. That is why I can tell you that Talon would never harm you—because I can feel his boundless compassion, his desire to heal all the wounds of the world." That beatific smile touched Salus's lips again.

"Wow. That's, um, interesting." Deanna's face reddened. "Uh…sorry for laughing."

Salus waved a hand graciously. "Think nothing of it," he told her.

The girl thought a moment. "What about Fox Clever Hunter?" she asked. "Is he part of Talon's circle? What can you tell me about him?"

Now Salus was distinctly amused. "No, he is not part of Talon's Circle, and I can tell you very little about him, except that he hates Talon for tricking him out of his demesnes, he hates me for what I am, and he hates Grimnyr for winning Virtuous Guardian. He is proud and volatile. I am certain he has his good points—but I can't tell you what those are."

Deanna giggled at that acidic comment. "Well, he's easy on the eyes, at least," she said. "Though the Coalition would shoot him on sight. He doesn't look human enough for them."

"They could try," Salus said. "All Lunars can take a great deal of punishment. If they caught him by surprise, he might fall down—but only long enough to catch his breath before getting up again."

"Give the Deadboys quite a shock," Deanna remarked.

"Deadboys?"

"It's a slang term for Coalition soldiers," Deanna told him. "See, they wear armor that makes you think of skeletons, especially the skull helmets. So we call 'em Deadboys."

Salus shuddered fastidiously. "Good. For a moment I thought you were being more literal. I have seen deathknights actually make the dead walk. From a safe distance, of course."

"Deathknights?" Deanna made a face. "Don't like the sound of that."

Salus nodded. "Yes, and I'm really not the one to talk to about that sort of thing. For that, you would need to talk to Talon—which in a roundabout sort of fashion brings me to why I'm here. You can't stay here at the demesnes, Deanna. Many things are getting ready to happen, and it's not safe."

"Not safe? Why, what's going on?"

The merchant looked grave. "We have word that the Dynasty is assembling their legions to attack the Haltans. There are no walls around this place, no way to keep them out, and they will certainly not change their path just because you're here. You may stay in Chanta with the Circle, or we could make arrangements for you to go elsewhere, but you cannot stay here."

Deanna's fair complexion went the color of milk. "Legions? You mean, like an army?" Salus nodded. "But Salus," she said faintly, "I'm not finished yet. I just figured out how to send a signal—what if they come through and I'm not here? What if—"

Salus cut her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "If you can signal them through other dimensions, surely you can signal them through space. You absolutely cannot stay here."

"Just a couple of days, OK?" Deanna's eyes were huge, and she ran a hand anxiously through her hair. "Just give me a day or two, to-to get things set up here. Please?"

He could sense her distress, bitter as gall, and sighed resignedly. "Very well," he agreed. "They cannot be here for at least a month. Someone will come collect you in a day or two."

When he had gone, Deanna sat huddled in front of her little fire, staring into space. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the growing darkness or hear the soft feet padding up behind her. As a result, she screamed out loud when a broad head butted her in the back. She leaped up and whirled, reaching for her flame sword—then realized it was just the cat.

The beast sat quietly, as if it had not just scared her out of a year's magic, with his tail wrapped around his forepaws. As she relaxed, his rumbling purr started.

"Hey, there," she said, lowering her weapon. "You scared the hell outta me, you know that?"

He squinched his eyes partly shut and lowered his head a little, as if to say he did know and was sorry.

"So how long have you been hanging around, anyway? Looking for another handout?"  
He rose to his feet, his tail twitching eagerly as the volume of his purr increased a notch. Deanna laughed.

"Sorry, kitty," she told him. "No more cookies."

His purr didn't stop, but the beast lowered himself to the ground and looked so disgruntled that Deanna couldn't help laughing again. His ears flattened at the sound, adding to the look of wounded pride. Feeling oddly comfortable with him—despite Virtuous Guardian's denial that he was "tame"—Deanna plopped onto the ground beside him and reached over to scratch behind his ears, a familiarity that he accepted readily.

"Actually, I'm glad you're here," she said conversationally. "I could use someone to talk to. Salus and Talon are okay, but they're busy, and anyway I don't know if they'd get it. And Hunter…" She frowned. "I've barely met him, and oh boy, there's definitely a spark there, but I'm not sure if he was even actually coming on to me or not. I mean, I barely know how to talk to boys in my own world—how the heck can I relate to someone like him?"

The great cat leaned into her, rubbing his head against her side and nearly pushing her off balance.

"Thanks, I think." Deanna laughed. "At least you like me, huh?" Suddenly aware of the chill in the air, she shivered and pulled her coat closer around her, leaning unconsciously against the cat's warm flank.

"Say, I can't just keep calling you 'cat,'" she observed. "If you're going to be hanging around, you need a name."

His attitude seemed to indicate that "Cat" was just fine.

"But I have to admit that I'm used to housecats with names like 'Fluffy' and 'Smokey' and 'Her Most Magnificent Highness Princess Thistle Puff.' I can't imagine calling you Thistle Puff."

The cat folded his ears and sank to the ground. His purr became a growl, and Deanna laughed again at his discomfiture.

"Okay, I guess 'Cat' will have to do for now. But if I think of something else I'll let you know."

The girl gave the cat one last rub across the head, then yawned and turned to enter her tent. As she pushed back the flap, the cat suddenly rose and pushed past her, knocking her flat on her derriere.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "That's my bed you're sitting on!" Indeed, the animal was sitting smack dab in the middle of her bedroll. "Get off," she grunted, trying to push him back out the door. "You'll get mud all over my blankets."

The cat refused to budge. Deanna thought about scorching his tail with a well-placed fire spell, but two things stopped her. First, she didn't want to hurt a basically harmless animal, and second, she didn't want to chance setting the tent on fire. Finally, out of breath, Deanna flopped onto the blanket. The cat lay down as well, giving her just enough room to slide under the blankets. Deanna glared at him as she stripped down to her shirt.

"Thanks," she remarked sarcastically. "Mighty big of you."

Tired now, she extinguished her lantern and snuggled under the blankets, surprised and pleased when the animal stretched out against her back. He was warm and solid; her eyes closed and she was quickly lulled into sleep by the comforting sound of his purr.

Dawn was just beginning to filter through the canopy when another great cat, this one female, padded into the clearing and growled softly. In the tent, Fox Clever Hunter opened an eye, yawned and stretched, then got up and noiselessly exited the tent. Virtuous Guardian glared at him.

_Just what do you think you're doing?_ She asked him in the common language of cats.

Hunter dropped his jaw in a feline grin. _Getting to know her better_, he replied in kind. _Since you claim I move too quickly_.

The other Lunar switched her tail. _You are asking for trouble_, she told him sternly. _Talon will be here today to escort her to Chanta, and he will not be pleased to find you here._

Fox Clever Hunter growled his contempt for the Solar. _He does not frighten me_, he said. _This time I am alert for his tricks, and I will crush him as I should have done before._

_And what about the girl?_ Virtuous Guardian countered. _What will she do when she discovers the trick?_

He hadn't really thought about that, and Guardian saw his ears flatten as he considered the possibility that she would not take such a revelation well. _She likes me_, he said after a moment. _Even though she thinks I am only a dumb beast._

Guardian snorted. _If you want her to keep liking you_, she said pointedly, _then tell her. And treat her gently. She is young, and I think tender. She could be easily hurt, and then Salus would be angry with you. He is fond of the girl. _

Hunter growled again, more fiercely. _What do I care what the Raksha-spawn thinks? _

_When he is mated to one who is not only a powerful sorcerer, but also __**nain-ya**__ among the Silver Pact, then you __**should**__ care,_ Virtuous Guardian replied. More gently, she continued. _Think. There is no honor for you in fighting Talon, nor in continuing to deceive the girl._ The cat that was Virtuous Guardian raised her head and listened. _She wakes. Remember my words._ And she spun and leaped lightly out of the clearing as Deanna stepped into the chill of the autumn morning.

"Hey, cat," yawned the girl as she rubbed her eyes. Of course, he could no longer understand anything she said. "Still here, huh? Well, you're welcome to stay for breakfast, as long as you don't eat it all. Sorry I'm not more of a morning person."

Fox Clever Hunter was almost amused to discover just how much of a morning person she wasn't. The first thing she did was mix water with some kind of black powder in her canteen. Hunter's sensitive nose caught the acrid scent of something like _kava_, the bitter tea sentries use to stay awake on duty. She drank two cups in quick succession, muttering under her breath the whole time, and only then did she build up her fire with a quick spell and set porridge to simmer. Then she gathered a pile of clothes and soap and headed for the spring. Hunter followed, and was amused to see her warm the freezing pool much as she'd built her fire, then settle into the now steaming water with a luxurious sigh, cradling her third cup of _kava_.

"Sure hope my Electronic Thumb works like I want it to," she remarked to no one in particular. "Cause I'm gonna be _real_ cranky when my coffee runs out. Even that freeze-dried crap is better than nothing."

Finally Deanna noticed the cat where he lounged. "Watching my back, huh?" She reached out to scratch his ears like usual. But this morning, her fingers found smooth skin. Silver Essence rolled off of his shoulders as Fox Clever Hunter resumed his man-shape, smiling a bit sheepishly and holding a hand out to her. He said something; Deanna couldn't understand it of course, but she was too stunned for a moment even to notice that he'd spoken.

"You—the cat—that was you? The whole time?" Stunned disbelief was quickly turning to embarrassed anger. "The whole time!" She scrambled out of the pool, away from him, oblivious to the fact that she was still wet and naked.

He couldn't understand her words, but Hunter recognized it when the shock turned to anger. Her face went pale, then livid. Her fists clenched as she shouted at him. He held out his hands, hoping to placate her long enough to…well, he didn't know what, since only she could work the language-spell. But as he stepped forward, her little fist came up and slammed into his nose.

It barely stung. He was a Lunar, after all, and she was no martial artist. But now it was Hunter's turn to stare disbelieving at this puny, _mortal_ woman who had dared to strike him. As he stared, she scooped up her clothes and dashed back to her camp.

Deanna wiped angry tears from her face as she pelted into camp. Just remembering last night made her face blush crimson. God, she must look like a fool to him. No doubt everyone here knew Lunars could turn into animals. And it should have been obvious, shouldn't it? Both of them that she'd seen had obvious animal features. How they must have laughed at her. She sniffled and hastily pulled on her shirt. She hadn't made it as far as her jeans when Fox Clever Hunter walked into the clearing. His voice was sharp and angry as he spoke.

Her flame sword was still in the tent, but the little T-K pistol Badger called her "clinch piece" was handy, and she whipped it around to point straight at him. "Get away," she told him, and her voice shook with rage. "Get out of here, or so help me, I will shoot you."

Hunter had a pretty good idea of what she was saying, but he ignored both her words and the little piece of metal in her hand. He had to make her listen! He hadn't meant to upset her. But as he stepped forward again, there was a sharp report. Something struck him; for a split second, he thought he'd been hit by a stone. Then the pain started. He didn't stop to think—he reacted.

Deanna screamed as the man roared in pain and rage and changed again. He grew—before she could draw another breath, he was nearly nine feet tall. His teeth lengthened, and his face shortened to a feline muzzle. Muscle rippled across his chest as his nails became savage claws. What stood in front of her now was a sleek and deadly meld of man and cat that snarled savagely as blood dripped from the wound in its chest.

It leaped; she screamed again and squeezed the trigger as she tried to dodge. She couldn't tell if she'd hit it again or not—the air _whoofed_ out of her lungs as its weight landed on top of her. She felt its hot breath on the back of her neck and closed her eyes, whimpering, expecting at any second to feel fangs and claws ripping her apart.

Then there was a shout, and the weight was abruptly gone. Deanna opened a cautious eye to see Grimnyr's bulk standing over her. The golden axe he carried was out of its hanger and threatening the snarling man-beast as it picked itself up from the ground where Grimnyr's blow had sent it.

_Holy shit, I didn't know they had rune technology here_, was her completely inconsequential thought as she rolled aside and picked herself up. Grimnyr said something with a light in his eye that indicated he wouldn't mind a throw-down with the Lunar; Hunter snarled back, indicating Deanna with one paw. Grimnyr laughed and sneered, beckoning his opponent forward.

It looked like a stand-off to Deanna, and she readied her pistol to cast an _energy bolt_, which might stun the monster. Then Talon stepped forward to stand beside Deanna, and added his opinion. Of course, Deanna still couldn't understand the words, but they sounded lordly and commanding. Hunter's eyes fell on Deanna; her hand shook but she raised the pistol defiantly. Suddenly the fight seemed to drain out of the man-beast. He dropped to all fours, shrinking down into his feline shape, and turned and leapt away.

There was a moment's silence. "Shit," muttered Deanna. "Shit, hellfire and dam_nation_!" She began to shake as adrenalin surged through her body, until she nearly dropped the little pistol she still carried. Her breath hitched as she began to sob. "Oh, fuck. Oh holy fucking Christ…" Her knees gave out, and she collapsed in a heap on the hard ground. She shivered and sobbed, still cursing. She flinched as Salus settled next to her, then leaned into the comforting arm he put around her shoulders. It was such a natural gesture—so much like something her own father would do—that she finally gave in to the stresses of the last weeks.

"I'm not even supposed to be here!" she shouted. "I'm _supposed_ to be in Lazlo, curled up on the couch eating chocolate-chip cookie dough and watching soap operas. I'm _supposed_ to be having dinner with my family, telling them all about my trip to Old Chicago. I'm _supposed_ to be in my workshop, trying to figure out how to make magic accessible to Joe Six-pack. I _wasn't_ supposed to get shot by Deadboys, steer my bike into a rift, and wind up somewhere with trees that hold up the sky, actual _gods_ running around telling people what to do, and big friendly kitty-cats that aren't cats at all!" She sniffled and dashed tears away with the back of her hand. "It's bad enough I'm stuck, but why the hell do I have to get stuck in the fucking Dark Ages? Why couldn't I get stuck somewhere with chocolate? Do you hear me?" Talon and Grimnyr stared as she raised her tear-streaked face and yelled at the sky. "Do you hear me? I want chocolate, damn it! I want real coffee! I want god-damn _running water_!"

The sudden passion drained out of her, and she slumped against Salus's shoulder. There was a rustle of green silk as Talon knelt in front of her and held out the digital recorder. Deanna stared dully at it for a moment, then pushed away his hand. "Take it away," she said tonelessly. "I don't feel like talking right now."


	3. Chapter 3

Her depression continued as she was moved, lock, stock, and barrel, to the tree-top city of Chanta. As the others stowed her few possessions in the small shelter built against the bole of a giant redwood, Deanna just sulked. When asked a question, she only shrugged. It didn't seem worth it to try to make a decision, when apparently everything was being decided for her anyway. It wasn't a bad place—just a little room with a small stove for cooking and warmth, a wooden floor that was actually a branch of the redwood worn smooth from years of use, and walls carved of the same living wood. Her bedroll was laid over a framework in the corner, and the rest of her things deposited on the single chair. There was another little room, apparently for storage, and they put her bike in there. So, at least she had a workshop. Not that she really felt like using it.

She barely paid attention to the native Haltans, though every time she poked her head out of the door there was at least one hanging around. They were mostly human, though Deanna noticed that their toes were nearly prehensile, and every one of them had hair of some shade of green. Obviously, Grimnyr was a Haltan as well, though his boots had disguised his feet at first. But she didn't poke her head out much—in fact, she didn't do much of anything those first few days. Even working on her Electronic Thumb—the device she hoped to use to signal a ley-line walker—didn't have much appeal. Eating was something she did to keep her body from complaining and distracting her from some serious moping.

When she woke up one morning without anything for breakfast, it occurred to her that maybe she needed to do something about that. Reluctantly, she started leave, to look for Talon or Salus, but then she realized that her clothes were filthy, and that she smelled pretty high herself. She groaned and sat down again, faced with a choice between bathing and changing her clothes or just staying where she was and starving. Her stomach interrupted the debate, growling loudly and uncomfortably. Deanna groaned again and gathered clean clothes—realizing that she also needed to do her laundry—and managed a sort of sponge bath in the little basin that collected rainwater for drinking and washing.

As she pushed open the door, it snagged on something. Puzzled, Deanna looked down and saw a leather bag sitting on the branch outside. It was tied with a crude thong. Curious, she picked it up and glanced inside. It was filled with what looked like some sort of small hard berries. She looked around, in case anyone had lost it, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her or looking for anything.

"Hey, Salus…"

The merchant looked up from his figures to see Deanna standing in the door of his pavilion with a bag in her hand. Pleased to see her out in the sunlight, he rose to greet her.

"Deanna, what can I do for you?" he asked as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Um, well, two things, actually. I'm kinda hungry, and I'm outta food…"

"No problem, my dear." Salus bustled around his pavilion, throwing together a quick meal. As the tea brewed, he moved a sheaf of papers and set the table for three. "Talon will likely be by soon," he explained. "I need him to examine one of my little blossoms. Now what else can I do for you?"

Uncertain what he meant by "little blossoms," Deanna ignored the comment and opened the bag. "Someone left this at my door," she said. "At least, that's what it looks like. Do you know what they are?"

Curious, Salus stirred the berries with one finger. It took him a moment to identify them, but gradually a memory filtered through… "I believe they're _kava_ berries," he said.

"What the heck are _kava_ berries?"

"When dried and roasted, they are brewed to make a sort of tea. Soldiers and mercenaries use it sometimes to stay alert on sentry duty. These are nearly dry, but they haven't been roasted yet."

Realization dawned. "Coffee," she murmured. "Someone sent me coffee." A huge grin spread over her face. "Cool!" Suddenly the depression that had weighed her down was gone, and she applied herself to the meal with enthusiasm.

It took her nearly a week to get the trick of roasting and grinding the berries. At Talon's advice, she spoke to one of the tinkers, who came up with a superb little mocha pot for her. Now she sat at her single table, happily tinkering away at the Electronic Thumb while a fresh pot of coffee brewed on the stove. She had the basic idea, cannibalizing the little emergency beacon her father insisted she carry for the housing and parts. But instead of the regular transmitter, the guts had been replaced with a curious tangle of wires and crystals. Red zircon, of course, for the _electric arc_ spell that would power it, and black garnet for the _magic pigeon_ that would carry the message. The main problem she was having was finding a spell that would actually cross the dimensional barrier. She thought she would talk to Talon—he was a wizard, what they called a sorcerer here. Maybe he would know a spell like that, and be willing to cast it for her.

She had just gotten a fresh cup, burning her mouth on the scalding liquid but unwilling to wait until it cooled, when there was a tap on her door. She hurried to open it, and blinked when she saw no one there. But there was another bag just outside the door. This time when she opened it, she saw that it was filled with food. Nuts and dried meat were in smaller bags, there were several kinds of fruit, and in the bottom she found several combs of honey wrapped in leaves. Again, she looked around for the anonymous donor, and again, she saw no one.

She didn't know whether to be pleased or embarrassed. Actually, she was feeling a little of both. On one hand, someone was going through an awful lot of trouble to be nice to her. On the other hand, she didn't really know anybody here, except for Talon and Salus and Grimnyr, and they wouldn't need to be anonymous. If they wanted to give her something, they would, and if they wanted something, they'd ask. She couldn't think of anybody who'd need to sneak around, except…

This time, she sought out Virtuous Guardian. It wasn't easy; she went all over Chanta asking for the Lunar. Mostly she got blank looks and a statement like, "I think she might be…," or "I thought I saw her talking to…." Finally, as she was getting ready to give up, there was a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to find Virtuous Guardian standing there.

"What do you need?" was her abrupt greeting.

As always, Deanna felt clumsy and young next to the enigmatic woman. And like always, she plunged forward anyway.

"Um, well, I just wanted to know…do Lunars ever apologize?"

Virtuous Guardian raised an eyebrow at the hurried question. "Only when we admit we're wrong," she said dryly. "Which is almost never, to outsiders. Why?"

"Well, someone's been leaving me stuff," Deanna explained. "And it isn't Salus or Talon or Grimnyr, so unless someone in Chanta's got a crush on me, I figure it's got to be Fox Clever Hunter. I haven't seen him at all since they moved me up here, and I guess you could say we didn't exactly part friendly—which was _totally_ his fault." The girl paused for breath while Guardian tried to untangle this remarkable statement. "So, I wanted to know if it was an apology, or what."

"Ah." A slight smile touched the woman's lips as she regarded the girl. She had heard about the incident at Talon's domain, from both Grimnyr and Hunter. She wasn't sure how much to tell the girl. It was Hunter's business, after all. But then, the child had come to her. Abruptly, Virtuous Guardian made up her mind.

"I believe he left you gifts, yes," she said. "Though not by way of an apology. He is courting you."

The girl's face went absolutely blank. "What? Courting me?"

"He wants you for his mate. The gifts signal his desire."

Now panic touched Deanna's voice. "Whoa—hold on just a minute. You mean, he wants to be my-my boyfriend or something?"

Guardian tried to hide her amusement. "Or something, yes."

Deanna drew her duster closer around her body and backed up a step or two. "So, what have I committed to? Does accepting the first one mean I've said yes?"

"No." Taking pity on the outlander's panicked confusion, Guardian decided to enlighten her. "If you accept his gifts, you accept his suit, but not necessarily him."

"So…I haven't said yes, just that it's okay to keep trying?"

"Exactly. If you refuse a gift, it means his suit is no longer welcome."

"Huh." Deanna pondered that for a moment. "So…where is all this leading? What does he expect? I mean, when you say 'mate,' does that mean a 'let's-screw-around-until-we-get-tired-of-each-other' kind of relationship or more of a 'till-death-do-us-part' sort of thing?"

"That, child, is between you and him."

A week or so later she was walking home after dinner with Salus and Talon. It had become a regular thing now—Deanna would talk sorcery and engineering with Talon, and Salus would share amusing gossip passed along by his "little blossoms." She had been introduced to Garulf, the baby that the pair were raising, and she had to admit he was pretty cute. One of the pair would often hand him to her so they could finish cooking, and lately Deanna had discovered a warm and fuzzy side to herself. At first she had been a little embarrassed, but when the dignified Talon had gotten down on the floor to coo at Garulf—well, really, it hadn't been such a stretch for her to do the same. Though she was more than happy to let them take care of the diapers, especially since disposables apparently hadn't been invented here. Babies certainly made for a lot of laundry.

This particular night she was feeling a little melancholy. She'd tried pumping Talon for information about a message spell to cross the dimensional barrier, but had come up short. He knew a couple of good ones, but they would only work if the recipient was on the same plane as the caster. Without such a spell, her Electronic Thumb would send its signal—but only through this dimension. And she needed some emeralds for the "magic battery." Otherwise she'd drain herself trying to keep a constant signal going.

There was the slightest of tremors on the branch she was walking on (and wasn't that a heckuva thought—tree branches as wide as streets) and she turned to find Fox Clever Hunter standing behind her. He was in his man-shape, the first time she'd seen him so close since the incident in the clearing, though she had caught glimpses of him now and then. Deanna's insides knotted at the sight of him. Part of it was apprehension, and that was understandable, and part of it had to do with Guardian's revelations, and that was a little more tangled. He wanted her, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle that.

So she tried to play it cool. "Enjoying the moonlight?" she asked.

He smiled. It was just the barest curve of his lips, and something about that coupled with the direct stare of his eyes turned her insides to mush.

"The moonlight is always enjoyable when it shines on something beautiful."

It was a line, but so well delivered that she had to give him points for it. "Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow and glanced around. "Were you looking at something in particular?"

He took a slow step forward, and his smile curved a little deeper. "Yes," he said. "I was."

Deanna felt the craven urge to run. Instead she jammed her hands into the pockets of her duster and stood her ground. But she couldn't help the way her breath hitched when she said, "You'll have to point it out to me, then. I like the scenery here."

He advanced another step, and suddenly Deanna realized he was close enough to touch her. Her whole body hummed with tension, and she forced herself not to flinch when he reached out, very slowly, to brush a wisp of hair from her forehead.

"To do that," he said in nearly a whisper, "I would need a mirror."

Her mouth went dry and her mind went blank. She had never really understood the term "animal magnetism" before, but now as her senses were overwhelmed by his mere presence, she began to know what it meant. Her eyes drifted closed as she reeled under that brief touch of his fingers, and when she opened them, he was only inches away.

"Wow, you're…tall," she muttered, and immediately blushed. Hunter only chuckled, a sound more like a purr, as he tilted her chin up. His eyes were so dark, the pupils so wide, that none of the green showed at all.

"Deanna…" he breathed. "I want to kiss you. Will you run away if I try?"

Her brain was short-circuiting, all her synapses firing randomly. "Hmm? Oh, kiss…" she said faintly. "Yeah, sure…"

His lips were warm and firm over hers as he nibbled gently at her mouth, and one big hand cradled her head as the other rested on her shoulder. Deanna was trembling with nerves, passive underneath his hands, half expecting a return of the same violence he had shown at the clearing. Instead, he continued the light teasing pressure of his mouth until her tension broke on a long shuddering breath, and she leaned into the kiss with a soft sigh.

Now he allowed himself a fuller taste of her, deepening the kiss. Her hands lifted, not to push him away, but to stroke his chest. Her hands were small, but not soft; he felt every nick and callous against his skin, and he began purring at the sensation.

Deanna went cross-eyed as his fingers dug into her hair and began combing through its length. The chaste caress was somehow as intimate as his mouth on hers (and, oh god, he could kiss!) and had her imagining how those hands would feel under her shirt. As her hands stroked his chest, she heard that rumbling purr begin, and her knees nearly melted. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her, and she suddenly had ample evidence that his arousal matched hers.

Hunter scented her body's response, and the potency of it had him clutching her close. Now he was trembling with the effort of holding back. Luna's eyes, he wanted her, but he wanted her willing. For the last weeks he had watched her, learning her needs and her tastes, as she hunched over her devices or tinkered with her machine, as she laughed with Salus and played with the baby and had long earnest discussions with Talon about sorcery. He had half-hoped that she would become less appealing to him, that familiarity would reveal some irritating trait and allow him to resume his former distance from her. But he had only liked her more.

Part of it, he admitted, was the lure of the forbidden. There had never been a wench he could not have, a woman he could not win, from the Haltan treetops to the Harlotry of Nexus. Most of them, except for brief dalliances with the likes of Virtuous Guardian, had hardly been worth the effort. But this outland sorceress had resisted him, had actually managed to injure him defending herself.

He had begun by admiring her body, then respecting her courage. Now as he felt her melt in his arms, as her warm lips parted and her desire rose to match his, he realized that the Hunter had been caught by his prey.

Deanna squeaked with surprise when she found herself literally swept off her feet and into Hunter's arms. He cradled her against his chest, his arms sliding under her duster as he nuzzled her neck. Instinctively she threw her arms around his neck as he began striding swiftly toward her little cottage. As he kicked the door shut behind him, the owl that watched from a nearby branch shimmered, and resolved into the slender form of Virtuous Guardian. As her keen ears caught the unmistakable noises from within, she shook her head tolerantly.

"Well, it's about time," she murmured. She sighed, a small smile gently curving her lips as she went to find Grimnyr. That little scene had made her own pulse race…

* * *

Deanna woke to the green-gold light of morning sun filtered through the redwood leaves. She was on her bed, covered by her coat. Something small and soft and warm was pressed against her side, and she looked down and smiled at the sight of the small tamarind that snuggled against her.

_Well, of course_, she thought. _The bed's not big enough for both of us otherwise…_

The coat fell away as she sat up and stretched, dappling bare skin with early sunlight. She caught sight of her clothes on the floor and blushed. She'd never be able to wear them again, not with the way he had torn them off of her. She hoped he'd be a little more restrained in the future; she didn't have many spare outfits.

The future. That thought had her pausing halfway out of bed. Her face went milk-pale, and she began to tremble. What the hell had she got herself into?

"Oh, God," she whispered. "Oh, God, what have I done?" Her shoulders began to shake as quiet tears began to flow. She tried to control her sobs, not wanting to wake Hunter.

Unfortunately, his senses were far keener than she anticipated. Fox Clever Hunter was used to many different reactions after a tumble, but not tears. Not from someone who had so clearly enjoyed herself. Yet he woke to the unmistakable sound of sobs. He rolled over and shifted to his human shape, concerned by the way Deanna huddled miserably on the edge of the cot, weeping uncontrollably. Hesitantly, he reached out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Deanna," he rumbled. "Why do you cry?"

She knew enough of the language by know to know what he was asking, and shook her head. She wasn't sure she had the words to explain even in her own language, and she tried to scoot away from him.

But motivated by an instinct he did not entirely understand, hunter pulled the girl close against him, feeling her heart beat like the wings of a caged bird. She resisted for a moment—then collapsed against his chest, sobbing openly now and clutching him as if he were a safe rock in the midst of a tempest.

She cried until her eyes were sore and gummy, her nose was red and swollen, and her damp hair straggled in her eyes. With a patience he had not guessed was in him, Hunter weathered the storm, cradling her against his chest and stroking her hair and murmuring soothing nonsense in his native what seemed like hours, the sobs that seemed ripped from her chest began to ease, becoming gentler, and finally trailing off into little hiccups. Still Hunter did not release her. Instead, he shifted her weight and lifted her easily in his arms and carried her to the water barrel. He filched a scrap of cloth left from her shirt, dampened it in the fresh cool water, and then sat on the floor and began to gently wipe her face.

She submitted quietly to his ministrations, huddled miserably in his lap. She turned her face up to his, but he could not read the expression in her deep brown eyes.

When her nose was a bit less red, and her eyes could see clearly again, Deanna reached up and stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Fox Clever Hunter paused, and she rose unsteadily from his lap. Signaling him to wait, she stumbled to where her knapsack leaned against the smooth wood of the wall, and opened it, returning a moment later with her digital recorder and a scrap of paper about the size of his palm. Apparently oblivious to the fact that they were both still naked, Deanna sat cross-legged in front of him, activated the _tongues_ spell, and handed him the paper.

"That's a boy," she said quietly, her voice hoarse from strain. "His name was Tommy—James Thomas, actually, but everyone called him Tommy."

Hunter looked at the paper and saw a startlingly lifelike picture of a young man with his arm around Deanna's shoulders. The boy had carrot-orange hair, a spatter of freckles across his face, and a mile-wide grin. He wore an utterly ridiculous outfit—a short fur-trimmed coat, baggy britches tucked into knee-high boots, and an odd little cap that covered his ears. Deanna wore her usual duster and was smiling as well. They both looked very young and careless and happy.

"This Tommy…he was special to you?" Hunter asked carefully.

Deanna nodded slowly. "Yeah. We had plans, me and Tommy. We were going to finish University, get married, open a shop—he was a tech-wiz like me. Make magic, and a family." The hurt in her voice was plain. "Then the Coalition attacked Tolkeen."

Her gaze turned inwards. "I guess you wouldn't know what that means…the Coalition States don't like magic. Well," she added with a bitter laugh, "that's an understatement. They don't like magic, they hate psionics, and they're paranoid about anything that doesn't qualify as 'human' by their standards. I'd be watched, and arrested at the first sight of magic. You…you'd be shot on sight. You don't look human enough for them."

"Tolkeen was just the opposite. It was a city that encouraged magic and beauty and learning, and the mingling of native humans with rift travelers. So of course the Coalition saw it as a threat. And a lot of people from Lazlo—that's where I lived—wanted to go help, try to break the siege. Tommy…Tommy wanted to go. He wanted to be a hero."

"He died." The words were a statement, not a question.

Deanna nodded. "Yeah. But not in the siege. He was captured when Tolkeen finally fell. The Coalition…they don't ransom wizards. They torture them before they publicly execute them. And they broadcast the deaths of every one of Tolkeen's defenders across the whole continent. I saw him die, Hunter." Her hands were shaking and her voice was hoarse, but she had no more tears left and could only shake with the memory. "I saw everything they did to him, and then I saw him die with the others."

"Deanna…" Fox Clever Hunter felt a surge of sympathy as he reached out to stroke her tangled hair. Had he thought her brave before? To see such a thing…and yet to be able to laugh… he was in awe of her courage now. "Deanna…do you cry because what we did felt untrue to your Tommy?"

To his surprise, she shook her head. "No. No, I got over that a long time ago. I've had other lovers—not many, granted, but…." She lifted her gaze to his face, and her eyes pleaded with him to understand. "Hunter, you're a hero. That's obvious. But I've seen what happens to heroes and I—I really don't think I'm strong enough to go through that again."

"You've got an army that's going to be coming through here in, what, two weeks? And I _know_ you're going to help try to defend this place. You might survive, and you might even win, but…what about next time? Or the time after that? How many wars, how many battles, can you survive before the odds catch up with you? And what am I gonna do if I let myself give a damn about it?"

She rose suddenly and paced away from him, rubbing her bare arms. "I'm an alien here, Hunter, and I want to go home more than anything. But I'm starting to give a damn, not just about you but about this place and these people. And I guess that's why I was crying. Because really…I don't see how there's a happy ending here at all."

Fox Clever Hunter sat silently absorbing her words, once again taken aback by what a fascinating, complicated creature she was. Yet he understood her reluctance, better than she could know. Standing, he wrapped his arms around her, stilling her pacing, and dropped a light kiss on top of her head.

"Deanna," he said quietly, "I will not make empty promises to you. Only Saturn knows the length of our days, and I would not venture to gainsay her."

"But think on this: There is pain for you, if you care for me, but there is pain for me as well. Your presence has become infinitely precious to me. The fact that you exist—that you live and breath and laugh and make your magic machines—makes this Age of Sorrows just a bit brighter for me."

"But the Exaltation that sets us above mortals also sets us apart. Even the paltry Dragon-Blooded number their years by the hundreds, and if I do not die in battle, I might live ten centuries or more." The girl in his arms grew very still as this penetrated. "It would pain me, Deanna, to watch you grow old while I was yet in my prime. But it is a pain I would willingly endure, in exchange for the joy of having you, for however brief a time."

Deanna trembled as she thought about his words. After a moment, she turned to face him, lifting her chin to look into his eyes. "Wow," she said. "That…kinda puts things in perspective."

"That it does," he agreed. And lowered his head to kiss her softly. "If you truly do not want me to stay, I will leave," he murmured against her mouth.

"Stay," she whispered back, suddenly conscious of the fact that they were both still naked. Her heart began to beat double-time as his hands slid up her back. "And I guess we'll figure it all out later…"


End file.
